


what lovers do

by end_thistragedy



Series: you hit me with a plot twist [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sexual Content, zariall triad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:30:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_thistragedy/pseuds/end_thistragedy
Summary: Zayn's gotten used to the way Harry's changed everything ever since he moved in a little over six months ago. Their fridge is filled with groceries from Trader Joe's, there are candles on every conceivable surface, there's a Tracy Emin hanging near the door, and Harry's even convinced them to rework their entire bedroom, including getting a bigger bed that's raised on a platform with silk sheets that Niall always ends up slipping on as he tries to climb up on the bed.





	what lovers do

**Author's Note:**

> a part of my zarriall au [_folie a trois_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4535064/chapters/10320789) i wrote two years ago? which you don't need to read, but it would help for context

“I've always wanted to ride a whale." Harry says nonchalantly into the silence that's passed between the three of them too long.

They're all tangled up on the couch together, watching Planet Earth, Niall's pick. Harry's in the middle with a bowl of granola in his lap instead of chips or popcorn because it's one of the only snack foods he lets them have in the apartment.

Zayn's gotten used to the way Harry's changed everything ever since he moved in a little over six months ago. Their fridge is filled with groceries from Trader Joe's, there are candles on every conceivable surface, there's a Tracy Emin hanging near the door, and Harry's even convinced them to rework their entire bedroom, including getting a bigger bed that's raised on a platform with silk sheets that Niall always ends up slipping on as he tries to climb up on the bed.

But it's all right, Zayn reminds himself sometimes, when he's stuck eating green smoothies for breakfast three days in a row. Because he has his shrine of superhero memorabilia on top of their dresser, taking up most of the space, his Deadpool heads, the jar full of skittles he barely eats. He picked out all of the furniture and chose the color scheme for their kitchen and bathroom. And Niall has his entire corner in the living room of mostly gifted guitars, some hanging up on the wall, his huge metal tic tac toe board on the coffee table, his giant collection of CDs and DVDs taking up an entire shelf beside the TV, and his Robin and the 7 Hoods poster hanging on the wall in the kitchen. He's also responsible for 90% of the plants in the apartment.

So if Harry wants to line up his collection of romcoms on the shelf below Niall's, or put fairy lights above their bed, and burn incense when he does yoga and every time he gets out of the shower, Zayn figures it's fair.

Especially ever since Zayn came home four months into Harry living with them cuddling a kitten with an unapologetic smile on his face.

Harry and Niall had agreed to call her Stevie. “Like Nicks,” Harry explained and Zayn had rolled his eyes at how white they were.

Now Stevie's lying on the coffee table, curled into an O in the tic tac board. And Harry's said something about riding a whale, Zayn remembers.

"You can't ride a whale, Harry." Zayn says. They're drinking wine and it tastes weird mixed with the granola but no ones owning up to it. They should've waited until dinner to crack the bottle of red moscato open. It's the cheap kind, too. They really should've waited.

"Not the killer ones.” Harry explains, like it needed a distinction. “Just like, a normal one. They're cute."

Niall sat his glass down a long time ago, empty. He hasn't reached for more. "I don't think you can ride any whale, Haz.”

Harry looks close to pouting. Zayn readjusts his arm around his shoulder. "Haven't you seen Free Willy?" He asks, sincerely. His words are starting to run together enough for it to be noticeable. He's been drinking nonstop, but slowly. Zayn glances at the 1.5L of wine he bought early that evening. It's almost empty. Harry might have killed most of it. He's only had two glasses himself. 

"Yeah, but--” Niall's saying. He's got a hand on Harry's thigh, a bit high up. Zayn wonders where the night will take them. Hopes it's between their silk sheets and not here on the couch talking about riding whales. It's been a couple of days. They've been tired. He'd sleepily given Niall a handjob in the shower the morning before while Harry was out for a run, but he'd waved Niall off when he tried to reciprocate. Genuinely too tired to come. But now he's a bit hard up more than usual. “I don't think he rides it, does he?"

Maybe it's the color of Harry's lips, wine stained. The way his thin t-shirt fits his frame. Or maybe it's the color of Niall's cheeks, all pink even after just one glass and a half’s worth of alcohol. Maybe it's all of it. Maybe it's because he's got two fit boyfriends. Maybe Zayn's just a bit of a horny bastard.

"Dunno.” Harry answers, pulling at his lip. Zayn's eyes follow the movement, but turn back to the screen after only a moment. Jesus Christ. That shouldn't be sexy. He shifts in his spot, spreading his legs a little wider so his thighs are pressed up against Harry's. “Don't remember really. I'm sure he did. What's the point of the movie if he didn't though?"

"Huh." Niall says, like Harry's made some incredible point.

Zayn finds his voice again. "It's a movie though? It would've been fake. You'd probably die. Drown."

Harry drops his hand to his lap and whistles. "Now that's an awful way to go.” And the two boys beside him nod in agreement. “Maybe I'll settle for a dolphin then."

Zayn hums, picturing Harry in a wetsuit, but keeping his cool. He's an adult. He can control himself. "Yeah. They're cute. Harmless. Never hear about any of them killing people."

"We should go swim with dolphins, Zayn. Just us three. And then surfing!” He startles Stevie, who looks behind her to stare at Harry like he's gone mad. Harry ignores her and snatches Niall's hand from his thigh, and untangles himself from Zayn's arms to hold the hand that's been resting there.

Niall holds his free hand out to Stevie, though, and she climbs into it so Niall can set her down gently into his lap.

“We should get out of here!” Harry continues once Stevie's settled. He has stars in his eyes when he gets like this. Zayn can't imagine anyone else but the two boys in the room ever making him feel this stupidly in love. “Just for a little while.”

Zayn tangles their fingers together, before squeezing gently. The horniness of earlier has quickly morphed into something a lot warmer, more intense. It's both physical and emotional and Zayn doesn't know how to contain it. Can feel it in his gut and in his chest. “You want to go on holiday with us?"

"Of course I do.” Harry says, like Zayn's ridiculous for asking. “Wouldn't dream of going with anyone else.”

And Zayn has seen it before. The ocean view from the balcony, the crumpled sheets, his boys on either side of him.

But he says, "I can't swim."

"We'll teach you! Won't we, Niall?” Harry turns to Niall who's smiling at the two of them and Zayn can see those stars in his eyes. Wonders if they can see them in him too.

“Yeah, babe. We’ll teach him.” He leans forward to kiss Harry's shoulder. And that's their thing, the shoulder. Zayn's seen Harry bite and kiss Niall there. He's seen Niall rest his head there. He'd feel left out if he and Harry hadn't taken to each other's backs, hands guiding along the arch, or caressing each other's necks, pulling each other in by the backs of their heads.

“Where would we go?” Zayn asks, taking his hand back to pull Harry in and kiss his forehead, a hand on his neck when he pulls back, stroking over his jawline.

“Far,” Harry breathes. He gets overwhelmed by their attention sometimes. Immediately goes pliant under their touches like they're pressing a button. They can go from 0 to 100 quickly. He and Niall learned that the more they'd lay him out on the bed and Harry would just go boneless, his face flushing at the feel of their hands, their mouths all over his body.  
  
Niall must be thinking of the same thing because he smirks when he catches Zayn's eye and starts to kiss Harry's shoulder again, this time dragging his mouth up to Harry's neck, stopping before he reaches where Zayn's hand is still stroking, spending a little time at the skin there.

The breath Harry takes is closer to a moan as he tilts his head, giving Niall more access. Zayn hums. “How far, babe?”

Harry blinks at him, trying to gather his thoughts. “Um.” He says, hissing when Niall bites down in the sensitive space between his neck and shoulder. “Like, far. Away.”

Zayn laughs softly, moving his hand off of Harry's face up to his hair, massaging like he knows Harry likes. He's had a lot of practice in making Harry feel good. It's become an art. “That's not very specific. Is it, Niall?”

Niall lifts his head from where he was mouthing at Harry's jawline. “Gonna need you to be more specific, Haz.”

Stevie stirs in his lap and Niall reaches down to pick her up again, says, “Sorry love,” and sets her on the ground. She just pads off toward the kitchen. Zayn swears she can always tell what's about to happen. They won't see her for awhile.

“You're ganging up on me,” Harry pouts, using Niall's distraction to straighten himself out. “You're always ganging up on me.”

“Do you like it?” Zayn asks, and Harry doesn't look like he expected the question, eyes widening before slowly going dark.

“Yeah,” He says, and because he's shameless, “It's hot.”  
  
Zayn and Niall laugh, both staring at Harry as if he's the best thing that's ever happened to them.

And, well. He is.

“You're cute, you know.” Niall tells him, turning in his seat on the couch so his back is against the armrest. He glances up at Zayn for direction and Zayn simply nods. So he tugs on Harry's arm, “Come here. Get between my legs.”

And Zayn has deja vu, thinking of bathtubs and splashed water all on the bathroom floor. God, they've come so far.

“What you gonna do to me?” Harry asks, but he's already losing to himself. His body going loose in Niall's lap.

“Just relax, babes.” Zayn says, voice soft.

“Tell us about the vacation.” Niall adds, hands coming down to rub over Harry's chest. When he reaches Harry's waist, his nails dig slightly into the fabric of his thin shirt so it will come up when he drags his hands back up.

Harry squirms, and Zayn watches as he bites his lip. “Where would we go, Harry?” Zayn asks again, firmly, trying to keep him focused. “Let Niall take your shirt off, yeah?”

Harry nods sitting up and lifting his arms over his head. “We'll go somewhere with a beach.” He says as Niall tosses his shirt somewhere on the floor.

“Yeah?” Zayn encourages, even though his answer was obvious. Niall's back to kissing Harry's neck, his arms wrapped around him, nails dragging slowly over his exposed skin. He must run into a nipple because Harry's mouth opens, slightly.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “We'll rent a house--a house on the beach.”

“Mmm,” Zayn says, hands moving slowly to pull on Harry's sweatpants. Harry's not wearing any underwear, Zayn can always tell. He's already half hard in his sweats. It's both entertaining and a privilege to watch him slowly get worked up.

“What else, pet?” Niall says it into Harry's ear, but Zayn can still make it out. Niall probably says it loud enough so he can hear, bless him. That's become one of Zayn's favorite things. Niall softly encouraging Harry in bed. He's excruciatingly gentle with him and it probably drives Harry insane.

“The ocean will be our backyard.” Harry tells them. He closes his eyes when Zayn leans closer.

He's perceptive, Zayn thinks, as he slides Harry's sweats down, over his dick, all the way down to where they bunch at his knees. Zayn can see the flush that immediately floods Harry's chest. He likes it, Zayn knows. Being on display like this. They'd learned that quickly too. The very first time they fucked, Niall deep inside of him, Zayn in his mouth. He gets off on the attention and Zayn loves him for it.

He runs his hands up Harry's thighs, leaning down to press kisses where his hands once were, along the skin of his inner thighs.

“What would we do?” Zayn encourages, because Harry's gone quiet now like he always does before his dick is touched, waiting in anticipation. Zayn's hand has come close to it too many times for his head to stay in the game.

Zayn kisses his inner thigh again and Harry says, “Bed.”

“What's that, Haz?” Niall asks, wrapping his arm around Harry's waist and pulling him close.

Harry holds onto Niall's arm where he's got him pinned, blinking at Zayn, who's staring up at him, mouth inches away from his dick. “We'll stay in bed all day. And you'll both fuck me till I can't breathe.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow at his dirty mouth, kissing his stomach, his mouth trailing down. He stops, though, and Harry groans. “Is that right?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah. Yes. Please.” Harry babbles, squirming a little. “Just.”

“Yeah?” And with a glance up at Niall, who nods his head with a smile, Zayn leans down to finally take Harry into his mouth.

“Oh my god.” Harry moans like it's his first time and Zayn immediately feels a hand in his hair, desperately trying not to move.

“Shh, babe.” Niall's saying, and Zayn looks up to see him holding Harry's hand where they're entwined on his stomach, his other hand running through Harry's hair, soothing him. “It's all right.”

Zayn pulls off then, his hand taking his mouth’s place. “How would we fuck you, Harry. What would we do to you?”

Harry whimpers slightly, sinking further into Niall's arms. “This isn't fair.”

“Answer the question, Harry.” Niall tells him. His voice is stern and gentle at the same time and Zayn really does love it when he gets like this. “Would you like it rough?”

“Or slow?” Zayn asks, his hand moving tortuously slow on his dick, “Tell us, Harry.”

“Rough,” Harry manages to get out. Zayn can see how white his knuckles have gone on his hold on Niall's arm. “Zayn you'll--you'll fuck me up against the window.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, “And Niall?”

But Harry blushes then, trying to hide his face in Niall's chest. He mumbles something, but neither of them hear him.

Zayn's hand stops moving on his dick, waiting. “What was that, babe? Can't hear you.”

“I said I want him to eat me out. After you've come inside me.” Harry admits, and his face is so red now. It's the most beautiful thing Zayn's seen.

“You've got a dirty mouth, Harry Styles.” Zayn says, and Niall hums in agreement, kissing Harry's temple.

“I'm sorry.” Harry says, sounding anything but.

“Open it for me, yeah?” Zayn barely gets the sentence out before Harry's mouth is open and Zayn is sticking his fingers inside. “Gonna get em wet for me?”

Harry nods his head, tongue swirling around Zayn's fingers. Zayn loves this part, too, when Harry takes whatever they give him, moaning obscenely like he's filming porn.

When Zayn pulls his fingers out with a pop, he eyes Niall, who always knows what he wants. They're synchronized.

And when Zayn releases Harry's dick, Niall's there to replace him, pulling Harry off just as slow, while Zayn adjusts his position on the couch, and sinks between Harry's legs, pulling his sweats down to his ankles.

Harry must know what's about to happen because he lets his head fall back onto Niall's shoulder and begs, “Please, Zayn.”

And Zayn is a sucker for begging, especially from  
Harry, and he gently slides his fingers inside of him, slowly, keeping in mind that they're not using proper lube and reveling in the slight arch of Harry's back, the moan that sounds like it came from deep in his chest.

“You're okay, Haz.” Niall soothes him, but his hand is going faster now and Harry's trying not to move too much and Zayn instantly wonders what it'd be like to handcuff him to the bed. They've got them in a drawer somewhere in the bedroom. Niall's handcuffed Zayn in the past, on his birthday, at Christmas, for fucking St. Patrick's Day, sitting in his lap and riding him so slowly until his legs were shaking and Zayn had marks around his wrists from straining against the metal. “You're doing so good.” Niall's saying, letting Harry's head fall back against his chest.

Zayn knows he shouldn't, knows Harry's already gone, but he leans down to place his tongue alongside his fingers.

But Harry groans, reaching down to put his hands in Zayn's hair again. “Fuck. Don't stop. Please don't stop. Please, Zayn. I love you so much.”

And so Zayn doesn't, removing his fingers and fucking Harry with just his tongue, while Niall pulls him off unrelentingly, whispering in Harry's ear for him to breathe, just relax, lean into me, let go, Haz, we wanna see you let go.

He must've been as worked up as Zayn because it only takes a few minutes before he's grabbing at the edge of the couch and saying, “I'm gonna---oh my god,” and coming all over Niall's hand, come slowly dripping down to Niall's wrist.

Zayn hums happily, and sits up onto his feet, staring at the two boys in front of him. Niall's smiling at him, his face a bit flushed, reaching over to where he'd dropped Harry's shirt and using it to wipe his hand off.

“Hey,” Harry says, but there's no energy behind it. He looks thoroughly débauched and Zayn loves that look on him, flushed red all over. “What about you?” He asks, tilting his head to look up at Niall, then back at Zayn. “Could fuck. Wouldn't mind watching.” He shifts in Niall's lap, against his dick. “You're definitely up for it.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but it's Niall who says, “Nah. That was just for you.”

Harry frowns, a near pout. “But later, yeah? Been awhile since I've just watched.”

“Yeah, babe. Later. I'm starving now.” Zayn says, “Niall I believe it's your turn to cook dinner, is it not?”

“Definitely his turn,” Harry agrees, and he slides his sweatpants back up to just below his waist. “But I'll help. Think Stevie needs to be fed anyway.”

“If you're just gonna open a can of cat food and then leave the kitchen, just sit your lazy arse on the couch.” Niall scolds, untangling himself from Harry and climbing off the couch to head toward the kitchen.

“No, I wanna help! Niall!” Harry chases after him, shouting his name over and over.

Zayn watches them go with an amused expression, lying on his back on the couch, and he feels full. In his chest, his heart. He feels something tickle his arm and then Stevie is climbing onto the couch to settle herself on his stomach. She meows and Zayn nods his head, agreeing.

“Yeah, love, I know how ridiculous they are. Our boys.” He scratches behind her ear, listening to the two bickering in the kitchen over dishes in the sink. “We're so fucking lucky.”

Stevie meows again, and it sounds like she's disagreeing, but they're interrupted by his name being called from the kitchen.

“Zayn!”

“Zayn please tell Harry that if it's my turn to cook it's his turn to do the dishes!”

Zayn sighs, and Stevie gives him a sympathetic look, Zayn swears. He sits up and carefully places her on his shoulder, heading into the kitchen.

“I'll do the bloody dishes, you ridiculous human beings.”

“No, Zayn. You don't have to. I'll do them. It's my turn.” Harry acquiesces, stepping in front of Zayn before he makes it to the sink.

“Then why'd you'd make such a big deal out of it!” Niall says.

“Because you're not always right, you know!”

“I was in this case!”

“We love them,” Zayn reminds Stevie, leaning against the fridge and watching them bicker. “They're our entire world.”

But Stevie jumps off his shoulder and onto the counter beside the fridge, trailing along the counter until she plops right into the dishwater.

Harry and Niall both freeze before rushing over to the sink and pulling her out. Harry's got her in his arms, murmuring apologies and Niall's by his side, stroking her fur but Zayn's not fooled.

She's a freakishly smart kitten and sometimes she acts so human that he thinks she's like Salem, but she just refuses to talk. He loves her.

“You done squabbling like idiots yet?” Zayn asks, “Cause our cat just tried to commit--”

“Cat-icide,” Harry says, with a straight face.

They both dutifully ignore him. “We were not--” Niall starts, then sighs, giving up.. “Whatever. Sorry, Haz.”

“Sorry, Niall. I'll do the dishes.”

“Damn right you will.”

“And I'll even do your laundry.”

“You do it anyway.”

“I'll give you a foot massage.”

“You do that too,” Zayn adds.

“Fine!” Harry says, “I guess I'll just do the bloody dishes, then.”

“Thanks, babe. S’all I ask.” Niall leans up to kiss Harry on the cheek and then the mouth and Zayn smirks when it goes on for too long and there's tongue, leaning against the fridge and watching them.

Stevie realizes what's happening and jumps out of Harry's arms and onto the floor, walking away sulkily. The movement pulls them apart and Harry smiles dopily at Niall who rolls his eyes and gives him a back side smack.

“Don't know how you put up with us,” Niall tells Zayn, who lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

“Cause I love you.”

“Aw,” Harry says.

Niall shakes his head, going over to the island where there are already ingredients laid out. Pasta from scratch, then. “You poor sap.”

Zayn blushes.


End file.
